1001 Braille Books
by nothingbutlove
Summary: After Hermione is blinded in the Battle of Hogwarts, she can't read any wizarding books, as they have not been published in Braille.  But that's not a problem for Harry Potter.  Join him and the gang as the sort 1001 Braille books in this funny fanfic!
1. Wonderings

_Author's note: _1001 Braille Books _is a Harry Potter fanfiction, set after Book 7. Please read and review, and there are more chapters on the way!_

Chapter One

Harry sat at the window, listening to the pounding of raindrops outside. He was grateful for the warmth of the Burrow, but couldn't help but feel a sudden coldness remembering the terrible ordeal that had taken place only a few months before. Lives had been taken, families ripped apart, best friends disabled.

Harry knew that things could have turned out much worse. He had been lucky.

_Except for the fact that you died, _said a quiet voice in the back of his mind.

_But did I _really _die? _Harry asked the voice in reply. This question had been nagging at him for weeks, whenever he was lying in bed, and whenever things were quiet. It didn't make sense. Dumbledore had told him he hadn't, but then again, Dumbledore was dead when he had told him this. Clarification would not come easily in response to this question.

Harry continued to ponder the answer through the silence, until it was broken by the unmistakable sound of a book being shut.

"Another one?" Ron asked.

Harry spun around in his chair. Ron was staring at Hermione in awe. Hermione turned her head to face him, her sightless eyes looking blankly ahead. Ever since Hermione had been blinded in the Battle of Hogwarts, she was no different than before, still confident, smart, and the occasional know-it-all. Quickly learning to read Braille after the battle, Hermione had been storming through all the Muggle Braille books she could get her hands on. To her great dismay, no books from the wizarding world had been published in Braille, preventing Hermione from reading anything about magic. He and Ron would occasionally read _Daily Prophet _articles aloud to her, but that was about it. Even though she didn't show it, Harry knew Hermione missed all of her favorite magical books, especially _Hogwarts, a History. _

"Yes," Hermione replied, raising an eyebrow.

"But that's the fourth book this week!"

"So?" Hermione asked.

"No one can read that fast," Ron told her.

"Ron," Hermione reasoned, a smile playing across her lips. "You know perfectly well that I'm capable of reading quickly. And besides, the American Revolution is quite interesting."

Ron rolled his eyes jokingly, "Whatever,"

"Well," said Hermione, lifting herself off the chair. "I'll go see if Mrs. Weasley needs any help with dinner,"

Hermione picked up her book and made her way to the kitchen. She knew the Burrow well enough to make her way around with no assistance, but in other, more unfamiliar places, she carried around a walking stick, and sometimes had Crookshanks help her get around.

Once Hermione was in the kitchen and out of earshot, Ron leaned to Harry and said, "I feel bad for her,"

"Yeah, I do, too." Harry replied. "I bet she's really miserable, not being able to read any magic books,"

"There has to be something we can do for her," said Ron. "Her birthday's in only a few weeks, you know,"

"But we can't just storm into Flourish and Blotts and demand all the books there to be translated to Braille,"

"Or maybe we _can,_" said Ron, his eyes lighting up.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"You know what I mean!" Ron said excitedly.

"No, Ron, I really don't." Harry concluded.

"Harry, you defeated Voldemort _twice!"_ Exclaimed Ron, standing up. "People would do almost anything for you! Flourish and Blotts would be more than happy to get the books translated for you,"

"You really think they would do that?" asked Harry. "Just for me?"

"Of course!" Ron told him, "Just ask!"

Then his voice got exceptionally lower. "Then we can give Hermione the best birthday present ever!"

"I don't know, Ron," thought Harry unsurely.

"Oh, come on! The worst they could do is say no,"

"But,"

"Please?"

"Fine, I'll do it!" said Harry, exasperated. "I'll head down to Diagon Alley tomorrow."

"Great!" said Ron, finally starting to calm down. "Ask Ginny to come with you. I bet she would be thrilled to get in on this…"

"Boys, dinner's ready!" Mrs. Weasley was standing at the kitchen doorway, motioning her and Ron to her.

"Coming, mum," Ron said.

Harry stood up, taking one last look at the foggy window, wondering what he had just gotten himself into.


	2. Wishes and Misses

Harry and Ron walked into the kitchen to find the long, rectangular table covered in platters of steaming, mouthwatering food. The aura of the room brought back memories of days before, when Harry was young and foolish, having no care in the world but great times with his friends ahead.

Mr. Weasley sat at the head of the table, examining a Muggle battery, the look on his face on of pure curiosity as he rolled it between his fingertips. Although he looked entertained and content, Harry noticed dark circles under the rimmed glasses, as if he had lost many hours of sleep.

Ginny sat to her father's left, twirling a strand of fiery-red hair around her wand carelessly, her eyes unfocused like she was somewhere else, lost in an ocean of thought. Hermione sat next to Ginny, a smile on her face, although the smile looked forced. She too had bags under her eyes from apparently losing sleep. Harry wondered why.

Across the table was George, looking down at the tablecloth. He had taken his twin brother's death with quite a shock; everyone had. Harry assumed that losing Fred to George was just like losing Hermione or Ron to Harry.

Percy was still bustling about in the kitchen, sending spells everywhere, enabling dishes to wash themselves and counters to be wiped down without anyone doing so.

Ron and Harry took the seats next to Hermione while Mrs. Weasley and Percy sat down next to George across the table.

"Well, then" Mr. Weasley announced, stuffing the battery swiftly into his pocket (his wife was quite against him having Muggle artifacts at home, especially at the dinner table). "Dig in!"

The sound of chatter and utensils clanking against plates and bowls soon filled the kitchen as the eight helped themselves to the savory dishes.

"This is brilliant, Mrs. Weasley," Harry noted between mouthfuls.

"Quite," Mr. Weasley added. "Thank you, Molly." Thanks and compliments ricocheted around the table. "Of course, dears." Mrs. Weasley replied with a smile.

"Mum," Ginny chimed in. "When will we be going to Diagon Alley?"

"Oh, I almost forgot!" said Mrs. Weasley. "Tomorrow would be the only time to do so. Friday we'll be going to help Harry fix up Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and Bill and Fleur are coming on Saturday."

"Um, may I join you?" Harry asked, deciding to take the opportunity. "I need to pick something up at Flourish and Blotts."

"I should be heading down there myself," Percy added. "I need to start looking for a job."

"You ruddy well should be," Mr. Weasley said sternly.

"And Harry, are you sure? I'd be more than happy to go pick it up for you,"

"Oh, thank you, but it's all right. I don't mind going myself. After all, I could do with getting out for a while."

"If you insist," Mrs. Weasley said. "And George, dear, you should really be getting back to the joke shop. It would do you good to get you're um… Mind off things."

The corners of Mrs. Weasley's eyes welled with tears, obviously thinking about her son, but she blinked them away as quickly as they have come.

"All right, everyone who's going. I want you up by seven o'clock. Ne exceptions. Am I clear?"

Harry nodded.

"And does anyone need anything while I'm there, because now is the time to speak up. Hermione?"

"I'm fine, thank you," said Hermione quietly.

"Arthur?"

"No, Molly."

"Very well." Mrs. Weasley said, ending the conversation.

When everyone had finished eating, stomachs full enough to burst, they all retreated upstairs for an early bedtime.

"Goodnight," was all that Hermione muttered as they headed their separate ways up the stairs.

Once Harry and Ron had dressed into their pajamas and got comfortable in their beds, Ron asked through the silence, "Did you notice Hermione?"

"Yes," Harry replied. "She seemed… different."

"So you think we should talk to her?"

"I don't know," wondered Harry aloud. "She might be in bed already."

""I'll talk to her tomorrow." Ron decided. "When you're in Diagon Alley."

"Sure," Harry replied. "I'll ne right back, okay?"

Harry slipped out of their bedroom, and quietly walked to where Hermione and Ginny were sleeping. Harry heard Ginny and her mother downstairs; their muffled conversation about her school supplies, from what Harry could decipher. Hermione was alone, which would give Harry the perfect opportunity to speak to her in private.

He knocked twice on the door quietly, then turned the rusting know and opened the door a crack. The room was dark, and Hermione was in her bed, asleep, her figure rising and falling in time to her breathing.

Harry stood there, watching her for just a moment, wondering what she was going through. Harry didn't know how he could cope with what Hermione did. Harry closed the door silently, hoping not to wake her. He made his way back upstairs to he and Ron's bedroom, where he found Ron playing with his Deluminator, absentmindedly turning the lamp on and off, sending the ball of light to and from the lamp.

"Where did you go?" Ron asked sleepily.

"Err… bathroom," Harry easily lies. He lay down in his bed and removed his glasses, causing his surrounding to go automatically fizzy. Ron turned out the light for the last time and quickly fell asleep, while for Harry, things weren't so easy. He couldn't stop thinking about Hermione. If she was okay, how she was doing, how she was coping. Did she need any help? Hermione had seemed a bit disconnected from the others ever since she had been blinded. The first few weeks after the battle, Harry remembered Hermione hiding in her room for hours, claiming she was learning to read Braille, but no Harry wasn't so sure that's all that was on her mind in those endless times she had locked herself upstairs. Harry hadn't seen her with a real smile in what seemed like ages.

Harry worried for hours, thinking of what he could do. But he finally concluded that what he was already doing was the best that he could. As he realized that, he also became more determined to make Hermione happy, whatever it would take. He thought of plans for the following day until he could stay conscious no more, and finally drifted off, his thoughts reminding him of the days in the forest, and Harry found himself partially missed the day hiding, just him and her…


	3. No Tears Left to Cry

Hermione lay in bed, staring into black. The room was pitch dark, the only illumination coming from the shard of moonlight that had pushed its way through the gap between the two threadbare curtains. But Hermione didn't know, all she could see was nothingness, eyes open or not.

Her sightless eyes were wet with silent tears. Tears that were one part of many that had been shed in this very bedroom.

Hermione had spent hours on end sitting on this bed, a mess of emotions encircling her like a not-so-comforting blanket. She had attempted at reading Braille, and had only partially succeeded. A fair few of the letters were still meaningless bumps on a page to Hermione. She had tried for weeks, but to no prevail. Being extremely discouraged, her already quavering emotions got the best of her, and she had sobbed until she had no more tears to cry.

Coping with her blindness had never gotten much easier over the past few months. Although the others had been quite supportive in helping her, Hermione still felt isolated and distant from them. She made constant excuses to get away from everything they could see and she couldn't. Her only companion these days was herself alone, and she seemed to be drifting further away from the real world with each passing day, becoming disconnected.

But no one else could know that. Hermione still acted strong, self-reliant, brave, and not fazed by her sudden blindness, while she really felt weak and alone.

Hermione also felt stupid and clumsy. She was incapable of performing simple day-to-day tasks. Everything she attempted at became something of an idiotic mistake. While helping Mrs. Weasley with dinner, for example. She wanted to show that she was fully functional, but her performance did just the opposite. Setting the table was quite a task; she never knew where to put any of the silverware, plates, or napkins. Forget about cutting vegetables, as she had cut herself more than once. For these reasons, Mrs. Weasley had advised against Hermione going to Australia to lift the charm on her parents until a later date.

"I understand you miss them dear," Mrs. Weasley had responded upon her asking. "But I don't think you're ready yet. I think we should wait a while, until you become more accustomed to things. Oh, but your parents are fine, I'm sure…"

These words, only upon remembering them, brought fresh tears to Hermione's eyes that she didn't know she had. In this case, her own parents wouldn't even see her for her eighteenth birthday, when you came of age in the Muggle world. Instead, she would be here, at the Burrow, celebrating something her parents had no idea about.

Then Hermione heard a knock on the door, jerking her back to reality.

Hermione stopped abruptly. She quickly positioned herself as if asleep. She heard the door being pushed quietly open, but shut again just as quickly. The room was silent again.

_Harry, _Hermione thought immediately. _Or Ron… _Judging be the heavy footsteps heading upstairs, she knew it was one of the two. Both of them really cared and wanted to help her, but Hermione had been pushing them away from her this whole time.

She missed them. She wanted things back to normal. But no magic she had ever heard of could cure blindness, and she couldn't read anything about it if she wanted to find out. If she couldn't even talk to her own friends anymore, everything else would be lost.

"Oh, what am I going to do?" she whispered to herself.

Hermione only fell asleep to get away. Only to take a break from everything that was happening. But she knew plenty well that she would have to get up and face another day tomorrow. She knew that too well.


End file.
